I love the summer.I love the collective sigh the world takes along with fewer meetings, activities and agendas which provide a way for more sun, water, popsicles and fun!

I have noticed during the summer is that the slower pace of life can make me start feeling apathetic about…well, everything…I don’t want to cook, I don’t want to clean, I don’t want to make goals and complete them, and sometimes I don’t feel like spending time with Jesus or in His Word.

Can anyone relate to these summertime feelings? I can start to feel so apathetic that I lose perspective of what is most important, my relationship with Jesus.

I really believe that a slower pace of life during a season of the year, is healthy for everyone. But in the relaxed days, we have to be even more vigilant to not lose sight of what is most important.

So how can we fight apathy…when we recognize it in our hearts?

Several months ago, I was feeling very apathetic about sharing Jesus with people I would meet in the city. I confessed to two girls that I had been apathetic on several occasions when I felt prompted by the Holy Spirit to share His love with others. I had deliberately disobeyed the Holy Spirit’s prompting simply because “I didn’t feel like it.” Because of this it became easier and easier to ignore the Holy Spirit’s promptings and to walk in disobedience.

I could feel apathy sneaking in….It was time to Do something radical!

I gave myself a deadline of one week to “do something radical” and asked the two other girls to hold me accountable. I defined “doing something radical” as sharing the love of Jesus with a stranger, because that always makes me feel uncomfortable, and I was getting too comfortable going throughout my life without sharing the gospel. Six days later, I still had done nothing radical and honestly I hadn’t felt like I had an opportunity to do so.

With my deadline approaching, I knew I needed to go and look for someone to share the love of Christ with because spending the majority of the day at home it is harder to encounter strangers. I went to my local grocery store, texted my friends and told them that I wasn’t leaving the grocery store until I had shared about Christ’s love with someone.

As I walked into the grocery store I headed for the beauty section and began looking for nail polish. A sales clerk approached me and asked if I needed help. She seemed friendly and possibly like the person God wanted to share His love with through me that day.

After talking with her for a little while, I asked if I could pray for her about anything, she enthusiastically said “YES!” and shared about a personal situation she was going through. She said I could pray for her then, and I did. She was so thankful and the expression on her face when we were done praying was more joyful and lighter then when we had first begun to talk.

“Wow,” I thought, that couldn’t have been any easier or fun. Not even two minutes after arriving at the store God sent this sweet girl to talk to me, and she was so thankful that I had reached out to her. All it took was for me to do something radical.

When I did this I was opposing the spirit of apathy. This simple concept of doing something radical can be beneficial in so many ways.

Here are some ideas of how to come at apathy in the opposite spirit. I would love to hear your ideas below as well!

Emotion: You don’t feel like worshipping Jesus or spending time with Him in prayer and in the Word.

Opposite Spirit:

– Read: scriptures that talk about God’s character and thank Him for His attributes. An awesome Psalm to reflect on the character of God is Psalm 103!

– Blast: worship music for 30 minutes, and sing along no matter how quietly or off tune you must do so.

One of my favorite songs to worship to is: “Jireh”

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ht1Aco2iVsA

– Stand: I have often found that when I don’t feel like worshipping God either at a corporate gathering or in my own personal time with Him that it helps my heart when I stand. The simple act of standing shows initiative, it is your body telling your spirit, I am actively engaging in what is going on here, whether I feel like it or not.

Emotion: You are feeling grumpy and full of complaints about life

Opposite Spirit

– Remember: Make a list of 10 things you are thankful for everyday for the next week.

– Bless: Look for someone in need that you can bless. Bake them cookies, offer to clean their house or babysit…ect…

How do you oppose apathy? What is a favorite worship song or scripture you come back to when you need to stir your soul to worship?

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If you grew up, like me, spending your summers reading your favorite books, you are going to love this give away! As a kid I couldn’t get enough of books. Some of my favorites were The Boxcar Children, The Bobbsey Twins, Anne of Green Gables, Nancy Drew and of course the Ramona books.

If there was ever a literary character I could and still relate with, it is Ramona Quimby. Ramona is curious, imaginative with a huge heart to help her family and friends. Unfortunately, her crazy ideas usually end in disasters. However, her eternal optimism and love for those around her always prevails to bring good out of the worst catastrophe.

I was thinking about Ramona last night as I made dinner. Ahem…err…ummm… attempted to make dinner. I was trying a new recipe and I was sure it would be one my husband loved, because it had three of his favorite things in it: Chicken, Cheese and Mushrooms.

Unfortunately, I missed the part in the recipe which indicated it needed to be cooked on a grill or a broiler. If I had read this more thoroughly I would have realized: our grill is broken, and what is a broiler anyway?

My awesome husband spent about an hour trying to figure out where the broiler on our oven was. Only for us to discover our oven has no broiler pan! Disaster! It turned out fine because I just baked the chicken and my husband (who is very used to my Ramona moments) was very patient through the whole ordeal. Turns out the recipe is just as good baked as broiled or grilled (not that we actually know) It is going onto our list of favorite meals. Another Ramona sized triumph!

(I got Anne, as in Anne with an “E” – my second favorite children’s literary heroine)

The give – away is for this “Junie B. Jones” book. Junie B. is a hilarious and precocious modern children’s literary hero. Although these books weren’t around when I was a child, I confess they have provided me a lot of laughs as an adult.

Even if you think you are “too old” for this book….I would encourage you to enter! Give it to a child and encourage them to read, give it to a teacher or a local library. But before you do…you should read it…come on…its good to see the world through the eyes of a child =)

You have up to four chances to win! Please, comment below:

– Tell me which children’s literary hero is your favorite OR who you most identify with.

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Monday, the world stopped as news of the royal baby’s birth was announced. This news stopped my heart. Our first baby had almost the same due date as the royal couple’s little one.

If you have been following this blog, you know that I have mentioned that my husband and I have lost two babies in the past year to miscarriage.

As I have journeyed through the pain, grief, and questions I have found that hearing someone else’s story is part of the way to healing. Hearing another’s story helps you realize that you are not alone if you have had a miscarriage. It is an experience that can feel lonely and isolating because there is no cast to wrap your broken heart, no casket to bury your memories in and too often no one knows. Even if someone knows, they may not know how to respond.

I am sharing with you my personal reflections about miscarriage, because God has given me hope in the midst of devastation. I am praying that this series provides comfort and hope for those who have walked through a miscarriage, and insight for those with friends who have experienced one.

I will always remember the day I found out Alexander was inside me.

From the moment I saw the faint pink line turn brighter and then deeper and darker on the pregnancy test, I was absolutely head over heels in love with him. By the time I had seen one plus sign and the word “pregnant” on the 2 different digital pregnancy tests my husband had me buy “just to be sure,” I was shrieking.

I squealed and jumped in delight, begging my husband to let me call and tell someone. Although what I really wanted to do was to run down my street screaming at the top of my lungs, “I’m a MOM!” “I’m a MOM!”

After getting married at the age of twenty – nine, helping seven friends walk down the aisle as a bridesmaid and with most of these friends having their second little bun in the oven I felt that God was redeeming my years of waiting for my children.

As a little girl, my favorite toys were my dolls and my favorite activity was pretending to be a Mom. My love for children continued through my adulthood as I worked as a nanny, camp counselor and children’s pastor. I went on mission’s trips and worked with orphans, I made friends with any child around me. I have left adult conversations at parties, to find the kid’s table where I have spend the night, giggling, playing and reading.

Even in my professional life my student staff lovingly nicknamed me “Mom” because of the way I nurtured and cared for their spirits and even bodies, constantly “nagging” them to make healthy choices in the school cafeteria and to start a work out plan. I had held them while they cried about boys, grades, and life direction. I had also screamed and celebrated with them about boys, grades and life direction.

It has brought immense amounts of joy to my heart to know that around the world I have many spiritual children. I had already been a “mother” to children and young adults offering counsel, correction, a listening ear, prayers, meals, snacks and of course hugs. But I never felt more like a mother than the day I saw that faded pink line turn a deeper shade of rose. I was a Mom forever now, I knew no matter what happened in life, no matter where I went or where my baby went, he would always be my baby and I would always be his momma.

I remember that day so vividly like a beautiful dream you don’t want to wake up from. My husband and I ate dinner at a local Vietnamese restaurant. I spent the entire dinner asking him if there was anything in the dishes I couldn’t eat because I was pregnant. As an engineer, my husband researches everything and had already learned more about pregnancy that evening, then I had learned in a lifetime of being female. After dinner I insisted that we go to the local used bookstore and look for pregnancy books. We bought a baby name book and a book about eating healthily while pregnant. I then came home and promptly ordered “ What to expect when you’re expecting.”

That same week, Prince William and Kate’s pregnancy was announced. As the whole world watched Kate’s belly, I watched mine with the same force of anticipation and joy as a nation of people awaiting their royal baby. To me this was my royal baby, the fulfillment of the Lord’s promise to me that I would be a wife and a mother.

I asked the Lord for promises for my baby. One was so clear to me, this little one would be a person of influence and draw the nations to knowledge and belief in Jesus Christ. To me, this was the dearest promise that I could receive as a mother.

At first I was sure my baby was a girl, Rene was sure the baby was a boy. We would joke about who was right or wrong. I had called a friend to tell her I was pregnant, and she prayed for my pregnancy. While she prayed I saw a picture of my baby Alexander, which would become such a treasure to me to. In the picture I saw my little boy probably about a year old, crawling on hands and knees smiling with dimples just like my husbands’ into his chubby baby cheeks. His dark brown eyes sparkled with mischief and his dark brown hair was wavy and thick, how I imagine my husband’s would have been as a child. He looked sharp in a plaid blue vest with gray trousers and in my opinion was the cutest baby I had ever seen.

Then the bleeding started.

I went to a doctor who was unable to tell me much except that my blood needed to be analyzed again in 48 hours to see if my HCG and Progesterone levels had increased or decreased.

Those days of waiting for the blood work results felt like the longest days of my life.

Then the phone rang, it was “the call.” My body grew cold, my heart stopped in my chest. I answered steadying my voice. The nurse delivering the blood results was short and abrupt. Her tone sounded as empathetic as a piece of steel. “Your progesterone and HCG levels have dropped dramatically in the past 48 hours and we are certain you are miscarrying.” As her words stabbed through my heart, my husband miraculously walked through the door home, home a few hours early from a work project.

He held me as the nurse asked if I had heard her because I hadn’t uttered a word or sound since she had spoken. My mouth couldn’t move because I was deafened by the sound of my heart shattering into a million pieces. My baby was dying, “My baby is dying!” I wanted to scream at the nurse and tell her, “YES I HEAR YOU! I HEAR YOU CLEARLY,” But I couldn’t say a word, I was in shock, and all that spoke was the scream inside my heart…”NO! NO! NO!”

I knew my baby was with Jesus. That my baby would never know the pain of earth and the brokenness of humanity, they would only ever know the love of Jesus and the love of their mother and father.

But I wanted them to know pain! I wanted to kiss every scrape and bandage every wound. I wanted to see them fall bump their head on the coffee table as they learn to walk, I wanted to help them get back on their bike when they fall off their new two wheeler, I wanted to help them find the pieces of their heart after their first heartbreak, I wanted to have a continual drippy and snotty hand because I have wiped their eyes and noses from the sting of this imperfect world. But I knew I never would and I wanted to, more than anything I have ever wanted in my life.

That night I collapsed on the couch holding my belly and cried, a deep soulful cry from my gut that had been building and I yelled until it was only a whisper, “I want my baby, I want my baby, I just want my baby.”

I wrote him a letter that night, I told him all about his life and how I felt when I found out he was inside me, and what we did that night we found out we were pregnant. I told him he was wonderful surprise, the best kind. I told him about eating Vietnemese noodles and buying every pregnancy book in the store. I told him I loved and missed him. It helped.

For anyone who has walked through a miscarriage I think one of hardest parts are the questions. What is the gender, what does the baby look like, what is their personality like? God was so kind to me to give me the gender, a glimpse of Alexander’s sweet face and then my husband named our son. Shortly after the miscarriage I was resting in my husband’s arms, thinking about our baby boy and as hot and gentle tears streamed down my face, Rene said, “his name is Alexander.” I sobbed with relief, he had a name, our son had been named by his father.

I looked up the name Alexander in the baby name book I had bought the night we found out we were pregnant. Alexander means “helper and defender of mankind.” This bothered me a lot. I wanted his name to mean what I needed most at that moment: which was faith, hope or redemption.

How could my baby Alexander bring help to mankind now, I wondered? How could he defend mankind when he had never set foot on this planet? I struggled with the irony that the meaning of his name seemed to pose. Yet, I knew the meaning of his name fit perfectly with the prophetic words God had spoken to my heart about Alexander. God had told me Alexander would have great influence and favor with people for the Kingdom of God. God had told me that Alexander would have an inheritance in the nations of the earth for the glory of God.

I do not have an answer for how Alexander will reach the nations of the earth. However, I feel nudges of hope from my Father, that as I write and share with others about Alexander’s life, that it will bring the hope and life of Jesus Christ to others, even in the furthest corners of the earth. There is a joy and peace to be found when we know Jesus. He is the restorer, He is the redeemer He alone can do this:

“comfort all who mourn,
and provide for those who grieve in Zion—
to bestow on them a crown of beauty
instead of ashes,
the oil of joy instead of mourning,
and a garment of praise instead of a spirit of despair.
They will be called oaks of righteousness,
a planting of the Lord for the display of his splendor.”

They will rebuild the ancient ruins and restore the places long devastated” Isaiah 61:2-4

These are the promises I cling too. There will be joy for my mourning!….there will be for your’s too sweet friend.

If you have been through a miscarriage, what verses and promises from God have brought you hope? I would love to hear about your sweet baby – What is their name, did you do something special to remember their life? What has been helpful for you in the healing process?

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I love flowers, tall fluffy trees, bushy floral explosions and the feel of green grass tickling your toes. I am originally from Washington state and grew up thinking that everyone drives to school looking at a giant snow covered mountain and goes for a walk and picks wild strawberries off the road side.

Of course, you know most of the world isn’t this lush green wonderland I spent the majority of my childhood in, especially if you also live in Texas…where plants come to die….

Maybe it was growing up helping my Mom garden (although begrudgingly) but the past few years, I have been determined to grow beautiful flowers. In spite of the 100 degree heat, despite the near 100% humidity and the frequent droughts that Texas experiences.

My Northwest heart needs to see, green and life and beauty. I am sorry to all my dear friends in the state of Texas but natural beauty is very hard to come by here. So I have dug plant beds, and planted and re-planted about a dozen different species praying that some kind of flower (and I do not define flower as a cactus…I know those grow here…they are also ugly and have spikes)

My husband and I decided to re-plant our flower beds, on what we would come to find out was the hottest day of the year. I found out that day that we are both stubborn enough to complete the goal. This meant that we waited until 8 p.m. at night to re-plant our flower beds because it was so hot we couldn’t be outside any earlier. We spent several hours alternating between one person holding a light and the other person planting the flowers.

I woke up that night to the sound of torrential rain. All I could think about was my sweet fragile flowers we had resolutely planted the night before. I worried that their young root systems would not survive the heavy down pour.

They survived, sort of….the past month and a half I have spent re-securing the flowers and watering what half dead, shriveled flowers.

I was frustrated, we had read all the tags at Home Depot and only bought the flowers who claimed to be “drought tolerant” and “summer survivors.” I researched online and asked locals how to save my plants. Opinions were mixed and mostly my questions were answered with shrugged shoulders and “ well its hard to say…its hard to grow anything here…except hibiscus and cactus”…but we already know how I feel about that. For several weeks only our hibiscus and one rose bush produced any flowers. Virtually every morning, I got up and watered the plants and prayed, “God please give me some flowers.”

After experiencing immense loss and grief this year, I needed to see beauty, I needed to see new life. I needed to see something survive against the odds.

Last week I was out of town for most of the week and weekend. As I drove up to the driveway, my heart leapt…there were flowers…pink ones, red ones, blue ones…(this is starting to sound like a Dr. Suess book..ha, ha) Almost every plant had a flower on it. These aren’t the kind of flowers that would win a prize but they were flowers. There was green and there was beauty in my yard and it was such a sweet gift from the Lord.

I love how God uses creation to speak to us. If we are attentive we can catch glimpses of who God is and learn about Him through nature. He is the divine designer of it all.

This morning as I completed my watering ritual, I thought about how many days over the past few weeks I wanted to give up on our plants. I thought about not watering them anymore and resigning myself to yet another summer of dried, dead landscape. But I persevered; I kept watering even when there were no signs of life. It reminded me of life and how so often God calls us to persevere even when we want to give up. Even when it seems like there is no hope.

One of my favorite verses to read when I want to give up is:

Galatians 6:9Let us not become weary in doing good, for at the proper time we will reap a harvest if we do not give up.

Friend, I encourage you today to remain faithful.

Are you believing for a friend or family member to know Jesus, keep believing.

Are you asking the Lord for a miraculous healng, keep praying, keep believing, keep asking.

Are you working in a job you hate? Work hard, remain faithful.

Are you loving a person who doesn’t love you in return, keep loving.

What is it that God is calling you to remain faithful too? Have there been times in your life where you wanted to give up, but you didn’t and were able to see the rewards of your diligence? What have you learned about God through nature?

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I think a miracle just happened! It did not seem like a very miraculous moment at the time. We were sitting at our dining room table playing settlers of catan with a few friends (my husband and I are a little obsessed with this game, any other fans out there?) Jaxon (our male cat) was outside in our backyard, sitting on top of our firepit (unlit of course).

We heard a loud crash outside and we all jumped a little, “what was that?” we all wondered. My husband jumped up to find out. I love my husband’s protector nature! As he opened the door that leads from our dining room to the backyard, he saw the neighbor’s pitbull lunge from across our backyard towards Jaxon. My husband yelled and was about to grab a lawn stake to use in self defense, when the pit bull decided to leave the scene. Rene brought a very scared kitty inside, as we all stared in horror. He set Jaxon down, and Jaxon kept lunging for the door with a “let me at him!” attitude. We also had to grab Sparta (our female cat) who now wanted to go outside to check on all the commotion. Apparently she had never heard the expression “curiosity killed the cat!”

We found that Jaxon had some hair missing and one of his paws was bleeding. My husband went outside to investigate the crime scene and left me and my friend with instructions to dip Jaxon’s paw in cornmeal to stop the bleeding.

My husband just knows these things…cat’s paw bleeding..dip it in cornmeal….oh of course why didn’t I think of that. I had been wondering if a band aid would work on his kitty paw.

While we dipped Jaxson’s paw in cornmeal (he did not like it!), my husband found that the pit bull had broken through our fence and another neighbor’s fence to get through to our backyard. My husband called the cops and unfortunately there wasn’t anything they could do about the situation because the pit bull hadn’t hurt a person.

Some peculiar thoughts began to race through my brain, “pets are people too!” and “how dare the cops not be able to stand up for a member of our family!” I was absolutely overwhelmed with how protective I felt over Jaxon and how outraged I was at this pitbull.

My surprise grew the next day when Jaxon was just not acting like himself. When I came out of our bedroom in the morning instead of him meowing incessantly and head butting my leg, while circling around me and following me all over the house, I found him laying on the couch. He barely lifted his head when I walked into the living room and looked at me with a glazed expression. He looked so mournful and pitiful. My compassion welled further when we found him after church, laying on top of our kitchen cabinets, the highest point in our house, just staring at the back door with a mix of horrific paranoia. He laid up there for hours on end, sometimes curling up to sleep and other times hanging his head pitifully off the end staring at the door then looking at us as if to say “do you know what I have been through?” I felt like my child had come home from school with a black eye and told me that the classroom bully had punched them for no reason.

It was as if Jaxon’s kitty innocence was gone, he had believed that life was full of cat food, cat nip, long naps in the sun and following around his “Dad and StepMom” meowing for attention. But that night he realized that the world was full of enemies, namely pitbulls that wanted to kill him, and I could see the weight of the realization upon him. Like the day I realized all adults weren’t trustworthy, like the day my elementary school friends decided to avoid me on the playground for no reason I could understand. It was the day that innocence died.

It was also the day that I realized I may have begun this journey as a begrudging kitty step mom, but I really loved these cats and I would have been absolutely devastated if one of them had gotten hurt. I also wanted to protect them from the dangers of the world.

I felt my heart changing, I felt a small miracle leap forth, maybe I was made to be a kitty stepmom.

There are many things, like acne, I thought would be non – existent by age 30. I also thought I would feel certain of who I was and never question my worth or purpose. However, I am finding that regardless of age, questions about our identity can spring up as unwelcome as roaches that sneak in during a rainstorm.

Last September, I got married and moved five hours away from a place where I was heavily invested in my local church and community. I left a body of believers where I was deeply known and loved. Moving away and discovering my place in a new city felt like trying to walk with a missing leg…awkward at best.

I was elated to be married to my incredible husband. However, I frequently wondered “what am I doing here?” For the previous 10 years, I had always known “what I was doing.” I was a student, professional , church planter, children’s pastor, community volunteer, and added to my resume every year a tangible list of accomplishments and achievements.

During our engagement I asked God what He had for me to do in the next season of life and I heard:

Invest in our marriage

Make our house into a home where many could enter.

I was thrilled and terrified in the same moment.

I had dreamed of being married and creating a home together, without any kind of pressure to earn an income.

I was also terrified…. “really God?” I asked repeatedly…” is that ALL you want me to do? But I have a masters degree, I have dreams and I am a doer, a get it done kind of girl!!!!!!

I decided to obey what I didn’t understand. For the first months of our marriage I spent investing in our relationship, while renovating our home. I slept 8 hours every night, for the first time in over a decade. My body returned to a healthy weight, because I sat down for meals instead of throwing food in my mouth, on my way to the next “thing.”

Although it was obvious God had given time and space for my body to rest and our marriage to flourish, I still dreaded meeting new people because of the inevitable question, “what do you do?”

“Ummmm….I’m a wife” I would uncomfortably answer.

“Oh? And….” The curious stranger would cock their head waiting to hear what my “real” job was…

“Well, I’m a wife… that’s my job…” I would hesitantly re-state, wondering if I should have called myself a “domestic engineer” and left the conversation before they could ask for details.

Why can’t I unashamedly answer that question I wondered? I was being obedient to God’s boundary lines for the season, but the accuser would weekly assail me with questions:

“Am I valuable?” “Am I important?” “Am I enough?”

I realized God was allowing a stripping of things: jobs, degrees, church leadership, and relationships, to reveal that I had found value in those things. He wanted to draw my heart nearer to the Him – because He alone can tell me who I am and give me value.

When I live with my identity based solely on this simple truth: I am God’s child – my questions can always be answered:

Who am I?I am a child of God.

What do I have to offer?Me. my sense of humor, perspective, thoughts, ideas and questions along with my passions and dreams.

Why am I valueable?Because I am His child.

My jobs, degrees, volunteer work and relationships weren’t bad things. They represented seasons where I grew, changed, contributed and found sweet friendships. But roles, positions and achievements cannot be the foundation on which I determine my value.

My value is determined by my Father, God. I rest secure because as His child I am valuable not for what I do but for who I belong too.

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I received a text from a friend yesterday, with a reminder that Ramadan had just begun and to be praying for Muslims during this time.

The month of Ramadan is a special month for Muslims when there are specific times for fasting, eating, spending time with family and friends, along with praying for mercy to allah.

This can be a powerful time for members of the Muslim faith to be shown the truth of Jesus Christ. There are many stories of God revealing Himself and His Son Jesus as the one and only way for salvation and eternal life, during the Ramadan season. Muslims have had dreams during this time and other experiences that have led them to accepting Jesus as their Savior.

If you are like me, the challenge to pray this whole month for Muslims can seem a little overwhelming. What do I pray? Who do I pray for? How do I remember to pray?

Yesterday I downloaded a daily prayer guide, with countries to pray for along with specific prayer points here: (You will need to sign up and they will email it to you)

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Today I am answering a reader’s question. Do you have a question for me? If so, please email it to info@claritywithcharity.com. If you prefer to remain anonymous, if I answer your question on the blog, please tell me in your email.

Dear Charity,

I’m going through a lot of transition. Most specifically in relationships. In an uncanny way, a lot of my closest friends are moving away right now! At first I was in denial. Then I grieved it a bit. But now I’m ready to process…but how?
-Anonymous

Dear Friend,

I am so sorry for how hard that must be for you right now. Although you are not physically moving locations, it sounds like it may feel as if your whole life is changing without you even packing a moving box. I understand that your relationships with community is one of the most important pieces in our lives. I have lived in tourist destinations and hated every second because I felt incredibly alone. I have also lived in places that smelled like an armpit and on the surface appeared about as thrilling as an armpit, but that I bawled leaving because of the sweetness of relationships there.

Most of my life (childhood and adulthood) I rarely lived in one place for more than three years. There have been many days this past year, after leaving close friendships and incredible community to move 5 hours away, that I have wondered “why?” Why have I moved so much in my lifetime? Why are there weeks like this one, where I receive 3 evites to birthday parties and baby showers from my best friends that I can’t attend because of the distance between us. Some days the ache to be in the same town with someone who has known me for more than a few months (besides my husband) is deafening and overwhelming.

I am not an expert in grieving the loss of friendship and starting new friendships. Most days I feel like I am paddling a canoe without an oar, using my bare hands, frantically doggie paddling in an attempt to make the boat of relationships move forward. I share with you from a place of questions, brokenness and hope because of what God has shown me through a life of good byes.

Validation: You are experiencing a legitimate loss. When your work out buddy and your Friday night “I don’t know what I’m doing but I know who I am hanging out with” friend(s), and your friends that know your story…the hard parts, the good parts…the awkward parts…when those kind of friends don’t live in the same place anymore. That is a profound loss. You must grieve it in similar ways that you would if someone had died. Something has died, not your friendship, but the way that you were connected. It is the death of your way of living everyday and it is the beginning of a new everyday reality. Grief (whether the loss of life or the loss of your way of life) is unpredictable, strange and real. It is never the same experience for any person and it is hard to quantify, write about or even talk about, because often it doesn’t make sense. Some days when you are grieving you will feel amazing, full of life, inspiration and hope. Other days you can be walking through the grocery store and be on the verge of a meltdown, because you miss “your grocery store” and the way it was laid out and the way you could walk through it with your eyes closed and hands tied and end up with the right groceries in your basket. You will have days where you just really need “that friend” the way they helped you process life, the way they made you laugh, the way you could just be together and not make forced small talk. Sometimes you can’t reach them on the phone and even if you do it feels like eating off brand Ritz crackers…close but not the real thing (as a completely ridiculous side note…I refuse to buy store brand Ritz…and I am a major bargain girl…I’m sorry they are not the same lightly buttered, perfectly salted cracker!).

2. Take the journey through grief. The best way to get through grief…is to go through it… I wish I had a more glamorous and quick solution. When I say go through it, I am speaking of acknowledging it, and giving yourself A LOT of grace to feel what you feel. To cry in the middle of the grocery store if you need to (or at least when you make it back to your car). To enjoy and embrace the days you feel full of joy and hope and to remember on the days when you feel utterly alone that in Christ we are never alone. This past year, I have found myself saying a lot…”Jesus I need a friend right now” and every time I say this I feel His nearness, peace and comfort. He assures my heart that I am always known by Him, that He is ever present.

3. Fight the urge to isolate! When our friends move away or we move away, it can be easy to isolate yourself. Its low risk to sit in your living room with your Net Flix, facebook, skype and phone and make yourself believe that you have a life. When you really don’t. Because life is who you saw today, eating dinner together, movie nights, and spontaneous shopping trips. Technology isn’t bad, and I am so thankful for the way it has allowed me to stay connected to friends and family all over the globe. However, if it becomes our primary relational connection, we are in a dangerous place. Use technology to stay connected and invested in lifelong relationships, but don’t let it become a hindrance to you finding community and connections where you are.

4. Work through fear! Making new friends can make us feel as secure as a 12 year old entering middle school. Sometimes I wish I could still play barbies together and feel instantly connected. Genuine connection and deep friendship don’t happen instantly. Sometimes I get impatient because making friends takes time. There is also the effort it takes to coordinate spending time with someone and the emotional effort of diving into another’s world while sharing a piece of yours. There are places in friendship that will only be reached through experience, crises and joyful moments.

When I am making new friends I usually feel fearful of four things:

– They won’t accept me.

– I will have to say good-bye

– I will get hurt.

– It won’t be worth the effort.

Do any of these fears resonate with you?

The best place to take our fear is to the one who never fears, Jesus.

One of my favorite verses to read when I am feeling afraid is:

Psalm 34:4

I sought the Lord, and he answered me;He delivered me from all my fears.

Those who look to Him are radiant;
their faces are never covered with shame.

It always helps me to identify what I am afraid of, and then to ask Jesus what the truth is about my fear. When I hear His truth about my fears it is easier for me to fight and defeat fearful thoughts.

It is so important to address fear and get rid of it, because fear will keep us from the incredible relationships God desires for us.

5. Ask Him! Our time and capacity is limited and I know that God sees and honors my desire for friendship. He also knows people better than I do, and who I can have a meaningful friendship with. I have been amazed over the years, how many sweet friends He has brought into my life from a simple act of asking Him who I should initiate friendship with.

6. Invest like you are staying the rest of your life. When I get into a mindset of “well this person will probably leave in a year or two” or “I will probably move in a year or two” it causes me to withdraw and not live fully present where I am. There have been a lot of times over the past year where I have wanted to curl up on the couch, watch HGTV, only talk to my husband and just wait until we moved somewhere else, because making friends is hard work. The Lord has been encouraging me to live like I am going to stay here for the rest of my life. I don’t know the future and what is to come. I only have today, and when I passively wait to just “get through” I miss out on the incredible relationships God has for me.

My heart goes out to you friend. I will be praying for you! Hang in there, God is bringing sweet friendships into your everyday life again.

What about you? Have you moved away from a close friend(s)? How did you process through that loss? Any advice for our reader?

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I hope you had a wonderful time celebrating Independence Day. We had a blast celebrating with our church body, eating, shooting off fireworks and shooting guns! I actually shot a gun for the first time yesterday. I think it made my husband feel like I was becoming a little more “Texan” (shhhh…don’t tell him…I will never be a true Texan=) But I have to say Texans know how to celebrate the 4th of July and it was such a fun time!

Just a reminder to let me know what is on your summer reading list. Please let me know here http://claritywithcharity.com/?p=299 for a chance to win a $10 Jamba Juice gift card! Contest ends at midnight, TONIGHT!!!!!!